Aerich shook his head. "I do not know. But we must try."
Khaavren stared into the distance, knowing there were mountains there, but quite unable to see them. "They are out there, somewhere."
"Yes. All of them. Our friends, our enemies—and Pel."
Khaavren nodded. "Get some sleep, my friend. I will wake you soon enough."
Aerich nodded, clasped Khaavren by the shoulder, and went off to sleep. Khaavren stared into the night.
It was near the end of the last watch—which is to say, it was only a short time before they had planned to rise, when Clari awoke Khaavren.
"Well?" said the Tiassa. "What is it?"
"My lord," said the Teckla. "Ibronka has asked me to awaken you."
"How, Ibronka? And yet, is it not you that are on watch?"
"Yes, my lord. But she wishes to speak to you on a matter that, she pretends, is of great urgency."
Khaavren sighed and rose. "Very well, then."
He found the Dzurlord staring to the west, which Khaavren thought odd for two reasons: first because it was too dark to see anything; and, second, because it was not the direction in which they planned to travel.
"What is it?" said Khaavren, trying to keep annoyance from his voice.
"My lord," said Ibronka. "Someone is coming."
"How, coming?"
"Approaching us."
"I see. Who?"
"As to that, I cannot say. But they are on horseback, and there are a good number of them. Scores."
"And you say they are coming toward us?"
"Yes, my lord. It began some twenty minutes ago, and it woke me."
"But what woke you?"
"The sound, my lord. Of the horses."
"Ah! Ah! You are a Dzurlord."
Ibronka bowed.
"Do you know how far away they are?"
"I am sorry, my lord, but I do not. Perhaps ten miles, perhaps twenty."
Khaavren had heard enough. He turned to Clari and said, "Wake everyone up. We leave at once."
Aerich, one of the first to be ready, turned to Khaavren and said, "What is it?"
"Kâna. His forces are behind us, and approaching."
"You believe it is Kâna?"
"I must assume it is, until I have some reason to believe otherwise."
"Well, that is true. And then?"
"We have, perhaps," said Khaavren, "an hour. Possibly two hours. And then, at this rate, they will undoubtedly overtake us."
Aerich's eyes narrowed and he nodded.
In a very short time they were on their way once more, riding through the darkness. Khaavren, be it understood, would have preferred not to travel at night because of the risk of a mishap and difficulty in maintaining the proper direction; yet he was made anxious by the thought of scores of riders who seemed themselves willing to travel under such conditions, and preferred to stay ahead of this pursuit, if pursuit it was.
They kept their pace to a walk until there was enough light for Mica to pick out, by certain landmarks, whence he had come, after which they began to travel rather faster. Also, at about this same time, Khaavren began looking over his shoulder, but, as of yet, saw no signs of pursuit.
"You realize," said Aerich, "that, as we must pay attention to our path, they can travel faster than we."
"And yet, if they are pursuing us, they must pay attention to our path. And if not, then no doubt they must pay attention to a path of their own."
"Well, that is true. Apropos, if they are pursuing us, and they catch us, shall we fight them?"
"Probably," said Khaavren.
"Very good," said Aerich.
The mountains were now noticeably closer, and Mica appeared to know where he was going. Khaavren strained his eyes to look ahead, hoping to see a figure, or figures, but as yet saw nothing and no one.
After an hour or so, Clari called, "There is a dust cloud behind us."
"Well," said Aerich.
Khaavren shrugged.
The South Mountain had grown considerably, but was, as yet, some distance away. At just this moment, however, Mica turned around and said, "There!"
"What is it?" said Khaavren.
"That is where I made my camp," said the Teckla. "Beneath those trees. There is a river on the other side of them. This river, whose name I do not know, is fed by various streams out of various of the mountains, but it runs as a brook for a considerable distance alongside of South Mountain, which I recall because I followed that brook for days and days. It was along that brook, in fact, that I exchanged words with Pel."
"Well," said Khaavren, "then as long as we stay with that brook, we will not stray from our path. It is well. We can go faster now."
"Not only can we," said Aerich, "but I suggest we do so. You perceive, the cloud of dust behind us is growing."
"I had noticed the same thing, my dear Aerich," said Khaavren. "And it seems to me that this can mean only one of two things. The first, that the numbers of our pursuers are growing, seems unlikely. This leaves the second, which is that they are getting closer. For this reason, then, I am in complete agreement with you. We must move faster."
As no one had any disagreements with either Khaavren's calculation or his proposal, his idea was put into action at once—that is to say, they made their way toward the mountain with redoubled haste. In this way, after some time, they did, in fact, succeed in pulling away from those who were either pursuing them, or perhaps, simply riding in the same direction, and who were, as Khaavren thought, troops of Kâna, or else another troop of horsemen entirely. They continued in this way for several hours, trotting their horses when they could, walking them when necessary, and stopping as little as possible. Khaavren, for his part, chewed his lip until it bled and attempted to watch both in front and behind as he rode. They made good time, although they had to slow down for Mica and Clari, whose horses didn't have the endurance of the others, and whom Khaavren was unwilling to leave behind.
It was around noon when he suddenly said, "Hullo!" and drew rein.
"Well?" said Aerich coolly, coming up beside him. By this time, we should say, they were riding due north, on the west bank of the stream to which Mica had referred, and with the South Mountain looming over them further to the east.
"A horseman," said Khaavren.
"Where?"
Khaavren pointed across the stream and slightly behind them. "There—you can still see him a little. Riding like the wind away from us."
Aerich squinted. "Yes. I see him. Whence came he?"
"From there," said Khaavren, to a dark place in the mountains. "It was as if he emerged from a cave."
"Is this possible?" asked Aerich. "You know these mountains better than I; are there caves in them?"
"There are, and it is certainly possible."
"Could he have seen us?"
"Perhaps. If he had a touch-it glass, he could certainly have seen us."
"You saw nothing?"
"Little enough," said the Tiassa. "Only a figure upon a horse. It seemed to be a roan horse, however, with white markings upon its chest and flank. I mention this so that we will recognize it should we see it again."
"And that was well thought," said Aerich.
"How," said Mica, who had come up during this conversation. "The horse, you say, is a roan?"
"Precisely."
"With markings as if white paint had been thrown on a place high on its flank, and again, dripped down its chest?"
Khaavren turned to the lackey and nodded. "You have described it exactly. It remains, then, for me to ask, what do you know?"
"Oh," said the lackey. "I know nothing, except—"
"Yes? Except?"
"Grita rode a horse very like that."
"I see," said Khaavren grimly.
Chapter the Forty-Second
How Everyone Was Placed
And What Everyone Was Doing
When the Interregnum Ended,
With Some Discussion of the Effects
Of the
Orb as It Emerged
Having now brought each of those persons with whom we have concerned ourselves nearly to the point in time when Zerika emerged from the Halls of Judgment, it remains only to go the last step—that is, to describe how these people were placed at the exact moment, and, where appropriate, how they responded to the beckoning call that the Orb produced, upon its emergence, in those who were familiar with it from having once been citizens.
Zerika, as we have already had the honor to inform the reader, knew where Piro was the moment she emerged; but Piro, for his part, did not know where Zerika was—indeed, Piro was convinced that Zerika had perished at Deathgate Falls. In order to help the reader fully appreciate this situation, it is our wish to begin at a point a few short hours before Zerika's emergence once more into the mundane world. At this time, we can find Piro easily enough, for he is standing upon a shelf near the base of the South Mountain. We should point out for those who do not travel, that South Mountain is not the southernmost of the Eastern Mountains—Tiren's Peak has that distinction—but is, rather, a large mountain near the southern tail of the chain, and one that actually marks the westernmost extremity of the mountains. It achieved its name, in all probability, because it is the first mountain one will encounter when traveling from the southwest, or the last one will see when traveling from the northeast.
From his vantage point on the small shelf to which we have already alluded, Piro looked out to the north and the east, where mountains still loomed over him majestically, and said, "My dear Kytraan, do you have the feeling that we have been going in circles?"
"Eh? Not at all, my dear Viscount. We have been going south."
"Well, I know that, my friend. And, if truth be told, we have been going south at far greater speed than I should have thought we were capable of, with all that has happened and all we have been doing, first traveling along the feet of these mountains, then venturing into them, then down once more. But what I meant was this: It seems to me that Grita has been leading us by the nose. We see signs of her—a silhouette against the mountain, a boot-print, a hoof-print of her horse—but we can never seem to catch her."
Kytraan frowned. "How long have we been in these mountains?"
"In all, it as been very nearly a year."
"And how much of that time have we spent chasing her?"
"All of summer, all of autumn, and much of this winter which, thank the Lords of Judgment, is a mild one."
"Well, but she must, by now, know that we are after her."
"Precisely."
"So then, it is hardly surprising that she has been difficult to catch."
"But my question is, is she simply avoiding us, or is she leading us somewhere?"
"You mean, an ambuscade?"
"Exactly."
"Well, had she wished to snare us, would she not have done so in the weeks we have been following her?"
"Perhaps. And yet—"
"Well?"
"It may be that she has tried on more than one occasion, and we have avoided the traps."
"Ah. You refer to the brushfire?"
"Yes. If Lar had not looked back and seen the thin trail of smoke, we would very likely have been caught between the fire and the cliff." .
"Well, that is true. What else?"
"What else? Do you forget the rockslide?"
"How, you think she may have been responsible for that?"
"Well, it came very close to us. So close, in fact, that we would have been caught by it had you not noticed the birds suddenly taking flight, and caused us to halt our progress, for which I must compliment you."
"You have already done so, my dear Piro."
"Well, I do so again. And then there was the dragon."
"Yes, that is true, only I do not see how she could have set that upon us."
"Bah!" said Piro. "You don't? It would have been simple enough, if she had known we were following her trail, to have led us past its lair."
"Without the risk of becoming entangled with it herself?"
"If she was able to muffle the sounds of her horse's hoofs, and find a way to hide her horse's scent, then I believe it could be done. After all, we did follow her trail past its lair."
"Yes, that is true, Viscount. And I should say that only your quick thinking with our pack animal saved us."
"Well, but it cost us the animal."
"Better it than one of us."
"That is true, although it gave us some hungry days until we were able to stop in a village and purchase another and more supplies. But then, consider, those are three incidents where she might have attempted to kill us. What will the fourth be?"
"You ask a valid question," admitted the Dragonlord, "and one that deserves serious consideration."
"Do you think so? Well, that is good, then. I do not like my questions to reflect light-mindedness."
"Oh, they do not, I assure you. Only—"
"Yes?"
"I am unable to answer this one."
"Tazendra, what is your opinion?"
"How, you wish my opinion?"
"Yes, exactly. And the proof is: I asked."
"Well, that is true, you did."
"And then?"
"Well, in the first place, my opinion is that I should very much like to find Grita and run my sword through her body, as we should have done two and a half hundreds of years ago."
"Well, we are all in agreement with this; indeed, it is exactly to accomplish this that we have spent so much time chasing her. But have you a second opinion, to go with your first?"
"I do."
"And that is?"
"I believe it doesn't matter."
"How, it doesn't matter?"
"Not the least in the world."
"Well, but, why does it not matter. You perceive, you have said something that puzzles me."
"Because she is no longer in the mountains."
"How, not in the mountains? Well, but where is she?"
"There," said Tazendra, pointing off to the west.
They followed the direction of her finger, and, indeed, they saw a rider on a horse that quite resembled Grita's dashing off at a good speed.
"She is going to meet those riders who are approaching us," remarked Kytraan.
"On the contrary," said Piro, observing closely. "She is avoiding them, and going off in another direction entirely."
"On reflection," said Kytraan, "I believe you are correct. But, wherever she is going, she is certainly going there quickly."
"With this I agree."
"As do I," said Tazendra.
"Then, for now, we've lost her," said Piro.
"So it seems," said Kytraan.
"But I wonder," said Tazendra.
"Yes?" said Kytraan.
"You just made a reference to a group on horseback."
"Yes, some riders who seem to be traveling generally in this direction."
"Yes. Well, I wonder who they are. There are six of them, and as you have said, they seem to be coming directly toward us—or, rather, they were. Now they have stopped."
"Well," said Piro grimly. "If they are looking for us, we will not be hard to find." He put his hand on the hilt of his sword as he spoke.
"So then?" said Kytraan.
"So let us remain quiet and await them here."
"Is this a good place?" asked Kytraan. "Consider that there is a cave at our back, which I do not like."
"On the contrary," said Tazendra. "I explored the cave earlier, while you were attending to the horses. It is scarcely fifteen feet deep, and quite empty."
"Well, that is good as far as the cave is concerned. But are we not rather exposed here?" said Kytraan.
"Not," said Piro, "if we remain crouching, and keep our horses hobbled where they are now."
"Well then," said Kytraan, "that is good as far as being exposed. But can we form an adequate defense here?"
Piro shrugged. "We have height, and the ability to observe. Moreover, they cannot bring their horses up thi
s slope."
"Very well, then," said Kytraan. "I have no more objections to make, and I agree with waiting here and remaining quiet."
"As do I," said Tazendra.
Lar bowed but, already putting the orders into execution, said nothing.
As Piro stood on a low ledge of the South Mountain and looked at the small troop that, had he but known it, was led by his none other than his father—that is to say, Khaavren—there was another who was standing upon a slightly higher bluff and looking at Piro. This was Wadre, who had, after months of searching, at last come across their tracks in the snow, and had been following them ever since, catching up to them the night before. Now that he had found them, however, he was uncertain what to do. He had completely failed in his effort to locate his band, and without them he felt as if he were unarmed. Moreover, it was certainly the case that, by himself, he was unable to do anything about the Dzur, the Dragon, and the Tiassa below him, all of whom were well armed, and all of whom had demonstrated a certain facility in games when he had met them before.
He wondered, as he had many times, where his band was, and how it happened that he had not been able to find them in the months he had been in and near these mountains, traveling south into the heat, and surviving through the season of storms, huddled inside of caves or beneath overhangs, and now the winter, which, mild as it might have been, was always brutal in the mountains, forcing him to sometimes kill game, other times to steal, or, when desperate, to even buy food from the few villages the mountains boasted. And now, at last, he had found what he was looking for—but, where was the man who had employed him, who, though his House was uncertain, seemed so like an aristocrat? And why had he seen no sign of his band in all of this time?
He was, of course, unable to answer these questions, and so he watched, and waited, and considered what to do, which activities he carried out so well that, at the expiration of an hour, he had not moved by so much as an inch from his position, cold as it was to lie upon the snow-covered ground, still watching those below him, who, although moving more freely than Wadre did, continued to do little except to wait. What it was they were waiting for, Wadre could not have said.
He had just reached this point in his thoughts when he was startled by hearing the sound of boots on stone behind him, which sound startled him so much he very nearly cried out, and did, in fact, go so far as to reach for a weapon. He arrested this action, however, upon seeing who it was who stood behind him, a cynical smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.